Late Night Conversations
by Settiai
Summary: He wasn't a complete idiot. :: Giles/Spike


Title: Late Night Conversations

Author: Settiai

Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and other related characters are all properties of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other related corporations. No infringement is intended. This story, such as it is, was written as a sign of respect and love for the characters, the show, and their creator. I claim no ownership of the aforementioned show and characters.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: He wasn't a complete idiot.

Feedback: Comments and helpful criticisms are always appreciated.

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"I wouldn't mind a good snog. Care to volunteer?"

Spike, once known as William the Bloody for a damn good reason, had been in tight fixes dozens of time since he had become a vampire. He had been pitted against enemies of all shapes and sizes, and he had always won. Slayers, demons, zombies, witches, Nazis, even Angelus once, back in the good old days, if a person was to count the time he had walked in on Spike, Drusilla, and Darla that time in Paris when…

Well, the exact details didn't matter. As long as he attempted to forget the part directly beforehand, including the little detail about the holy water and the threats to certain parts of his anatomy, it was a pretty good memory. Or, at least, it had a good ending.

He was getting off course.

The point was, Spike had lived through countless horrors, even a few that he hadn't had a hand in starting. He had seen things that no other living or unliving creature had seen, done things that no others had done, and survived things that no others had survived. He had made it through much worse things than being tied to a chair in the house of a sadistic Watcher who wouldn't even let Spike watch _Passions_ without complaining for hours beforehand.

Spike couldn't exactly think of any right then, but he knew that he had survived worse things. Probably.

Plus old Rupert had a fairly nice-looking bum, which made the whole tied-to-a-chair part of the experience a little more tolerable. In fact, Spike had almost gotten used to the whole situation. It was a fairly simple routine: stay tied to a chair and, in return, receive a cup of warm blood whenever he wanted, usually served by someone fairly attractive; watch his soaps whenever Giles left him alone; and not have to put up with Harmony to get any of it.

Admittedly, the part where the Watcher was drunk off his rocker and proposing that they snog and was new.

Spike blinked. "What?"

Giles rolled his eyes and helped himself to another swallow of whatever apparently potent liquor was in the glass he was holding. Then, instead of saying anything, he leaned in and gave Spike a kiss.

A damn good kiss.

Spike didn't react for a moment, enjoying the sensation for a moment. It had been quite awhile since another man had kissed him, not since Angelus had gotten his soul for the second time in fact, and he had to admit… it was nice.

Then his self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he quickly jerked away, head butting the Watcher in the right eye as he did.

"Don't even think about trying that again," Spike warned, narrowing his eyes as he watched Giles gingerly rub his eye.

Giles shot him a dirty look. "I'd have preferred you to kiss back," he said.

"Right," Spike muttered, rolling his eyes. "And wake up to the Slayer waving a stake in my face because I've violated her Watcher? I think not."

At that, a thoughtful look appeared on Giles's face. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted.

Spike shook his head. "So the Watcher's interested in the blokes as well as the broads," he said. "What's his name?"

"I beg your pardon?" Giles asked, blinking in surprise at the sudden change of topic.

"Believe it or not, I'm not a complete idiot," Spike said. "You're drunk, but there hasn't been any kind of major disaster--" He paused for a second. "Has there?"

The look that Giles shot him answered that.

"Guess not," Spike mumbled. "Anyway, where was I?"

Giles rolled his eyes as he took another swallow from his glass. "Major disaster," he said helpfully.

"Thanks," Spike said, nodding. "There hasn't been any kind of major disaster, so that's not why you're drinking yourself into an oblivion. Which leaves trying to forget a past relationship that ended badly. So, what's his name?"

"What makes you think it's not a woman?" Giles protested.

Spike snorted. "Then you'd be trying to kiss your pretty little Slayer instead of me," he said. "And you'd both probably be wearing a lot less clothes by this point. Now, what's his name?"

Giles's face grew guarded. "Since when have you been smart?"

"Now I'm insulted," Spike said, not looking away. "His name?"

The Watcher sighed. "Ethan Rayne," he said reluctantly.

Spike gave him a thoughtful look for a second before snapping his fingers. "A few Halloweens back, he's the one who was passing out the cursed costumes. Right?"

Giles downed the rest of his drink. "Right," he said, nodding.

"First love?" Spike asked, ignoring the dirty look being aimed his way. "First shag? Old schoolmates?"

"Let's just say we have a history and leave it at that." Then, without saying another word, he collapsed to the floor.

Unfortunately, since he hadn't removed his hand from Spike's chair, it went crashing down with him. Spike let out a few groans before quieting, listening to make sure the Watcher was still breathing since the last thing he needed was the man to die three feet away from him. When the sound of quiet snores filled the room, though, he rolled his eyes.

Spike considered the scene for a moment. He was still tied to the chair, but -- since both him and it were laying on their sides in the middle of the floor -- it might be difficult to see that the ropes were still there at first glance. Giles, on the other hand, was sprawled out beside him with his shirt half-unbuttoned, his glasses askance, and a nice shiner appearing on his eye from where Spike had pushed him away.

He sighed. "The Slayer's going to kill me."


End file.
